


Getting Better

by 1dasfudge



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: 1963, Inspired by Real Events, M/M, Sick Character, and another protective john, lol another sick paul fic, some parts fiction, that time paul got sick and had to cancel, yeah around there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-25 15:01:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20726141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1dasfudge/pseuds/1dasfudge
Summary: Paul’s sick and it doesn't seem like he's getting better.





	1. A Little Better All The Time

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again. Another sick Paul fic because why not?! Part 2 will be up tomorrow. Enjoy! :)

"Blow," John holds out a tissue for Paul and puts it under his stuffy nose. Paul had this cold for two days now, John’s not worried. By the next day Paul will be fine. After he's finished blowing his nose, he hands John the wadded up tissue. John throws it away quickly and stares at Paul. Paul stared back with sad hazel eyes that melted his heart. John crouches down to look at Paul eye to eye. “You’re going to be fine.”

“I don’t feel fine.”

“Oh hush. Go on, get ready. They’re waiting.” John was already dressed for the day. He sat on a chair and watched as Paul slowly got dressed. He watched as Paul slid into his dress shirt and shakily button the buttons. “Need help?”

“I got it.” Paul weakly replied.

Next they were all in the car driving them to the venue for soundcheck. They were talking among themselves, Paul rested his head against the window.

“How was your night?” John asked Ringo.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

George put his arm around Ringo. “We played Monopoly all night. And I beat him.”

“You cheated!”

“How did I cheat?” George pretended to act shocked, causing Brian to laugh.

“All those times you hid your money, don’t play dumb Harrison!”

“Anyroad!” George covered Ringo’s mouth his hand. “How was your night?”

“Nursing Macca.”

Ringo nipped at George’s hand so he can speak. “Still got the chills?”

“It’s a stuffy nose now.”

“You think it could be allergies?”

“Allergies doesn’t cause shivering, George. He’s going to be fine by tomorrow. Ain’t that right Macca?”

Paul just shrugged. Never breaking contact with the road.

They went through the first couple of songs pretty well. When they got to ‘I Saw Her Standing There’ George and Paul shared a mic. By the first verse George could tell something was wrong. Paul was shutting his eyes tighter than usual. His bass playing was way off. Eventually Paul just stopped singing all together causing the band to stop as well. Brian walked up to the stage.

“What happened?” Brian looked up with worried eyes.

John rushed to Paul’s side. Ringo peered down from his drum stand.

Paul held on to the mic with both hands and rested his forehead on it. He panted in a way that was concerning, it was shaky, rattling.

George help remove his bass. “Sit down.”

Paul flopped onto the stage floor staring at Brian but not really. It was like he was staring right through him.

“Paul? Are you okay?” Brian placed his hand on Paul’s leg.

“Um, sorry.” Paul slowly wrapped his arms around his stomach. “The pain just came out of nowhere.”

“You don’t have to apologize. You need to rest.”

“Back to the hotel then?” Ringo called.

“Yes. Back to the hotel.”

John tucked in the shivering boy like he did last night. He put the back of his hand on Paul’s forehead. It was really warm. John looked down at Paul. Every once in a while his eyes shut tightly then it’ll stop, then he would do it again.

“You’re scaring me now.”

Paul barely opened his eyes. “Sorry...”

John sighed. “Don’t be. You just need rest. Brian’s thinking of cancelling the show.”

“N-no! Don’t cancel…”

“Do you see the state you’re in?”

Paul shut his eyes again. “I just need rest, you said so yourself.” He was fast asleep after that. John lightly brushed his black hair from his eyes. He headed to the other room where the others were.

“He doesn’t want you to cancel.”

“May I ask why?” Brian uncrossed his arms.

“He thinks he just needs rest.”

George sat at the table. “Should we get a doctor or something?”

“Is it that serious?” Ringo asked.

John sat next to George. “It’s not. It’s just some stomach pain. He’ll be fine.”

“Let’s hope.” Brian sighed.

They all didn’t have breakfast so they ordered some room service. They ate silently. Just the sound of forks scraping against their plates.

“Ooh breaky!” They all turned around to see Paul up, energized. John looked at his up and down. He wasn’t leaning on something, he wasn’t shivering, it was like he was never sick ten minutes ago. “Are you gonna pass the eggs or not?”

Paul pulled up a chair next to John and fixed his plate. The rest didn’t know how to react. John put his hand on Paul’s shoulder. Paul turned to him.

“Are you really okay?”

“Yeah, I just needed some rest.” Paul took a sip of his orange juice. “I’m fine.”

Paul’s reassuring smile made everyone relax. John relaxed a little bit, but he was still waiting for Paul to drop this charade. Because John knows he’s not okay.


	2. It Can't Get No Worse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They attempt to do an interview but it goes downhill from there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here is chapter 2! Thank you for the kind comments! Enjoy! :)

John focused on Paul’s eyes, which were darting back and forth, shining from the bright room. They were an earthy brown- but there was something else in them, something glistening. Tears were welling up in his eyes and he was trying to blink them away. The tears were filled with secrets and Paul didn’t want them to spill.

“You said you were fine, right?”

Paul glanced at John, and smiled. “Right.”

Brian introduced the boys to the interviewer and they all shook hands. The interviewer looked at the cameraman for a countdown. During this Paul looked to his left. Trying to calculate how far away was the nearest exit.

“Do you think going around the country with tremendous speed getting you down a bit?”

The others giggled. “No we like it it’s great.” John said.

“You know us.” Paul managed to sound nonchalant but it just sounded like he was hiding something. He looked at the ground again.

“You don’t find it frightening, being mobbed?”

“The police get mobbed we don’t.” John joked.

“It’s well organized… we’re well organized… Tonight was very good...” Paul tried his best not to slur his words.

The interviewer turned to Paul. “How did you get here tonight?”

“A van…”

There was a short silence. “...How?”

“We were met outside the… city… and brought in by vans. Unloading vans…”

John stared intently at Paul. He knows he’s going to crack soon.

“Is that how you’re leaving too?”

George took over so the interviewer could turn his attention away from Paul. “They’ll arrange that before the end of the show, and see which is the best way.”

“You’re getting so much publicity nowadays, the papers are writing about you, are you worried about going over the top?”

John crossed his arms. “No, when you gotta go you gotta go.” He turned to look at Paul. Almost like a signal for Paul to leave and get some air. But he stayed.

“What are you gonna do when your time comes?”

“Sail on a yacht.” George joked.

Ringo awkwardly laughed. “We don’t have any definite ideas on what we’re gonna do.”

“Is that a cardigan?” John tugged on Ringo’s scarf. He did that so he can see how Paul was holding up. He watched as Paul slowly turned to his left again. Ringo’s cigarette smoke was making him nauseous.

“Yeah, It’s me school scarf.” Ringo laughed again.

“You’re not thinking about giving up the big beat stuff and going into harmonys? Cause people said you’re very good at harmonies.”

John went back to the interview. He could see Paul shifting at his feet, looking down and sighing. “We do harmonys just like we do the big beats. All of our records has had some kind of harmony in them.” John answered as fast as he could and his eyes couldn’t help but drift at Paul again.

“In the royal show you did one ballad number, is that something you should do more of?”

“We’ve been doing it for five years. And we’ve always done them like that. We’re just known for faster numbers.”

“Do you like the ballads?”

“Yes there good… Just as good as the ballads and beats.” John make a face at the camera causing the other boys to chuckle. Paul was slowly leaning on Ringo’s shoulder, drifting to sleep. John gave Paul his undivided attention “Are you alright?”

Paul snapped his head up and smiled. “Yeah!” His smile faulted then turned to his left again. He stared at Brian and silently begged him to stop this interview.

“Paul?” Ringo turned to Paul now.

Paul whispered to Ringo. “ _ I need some fucking air. _ ” Then turned to John. A tear was threatening to slip down his cheek.

“Did you enjoy the variety show?”

George took over again. “It was great, fabulous. Very good. The audience was much better than we expected.”

“Much taller.” John sent George a look, basically confirming that they needed to get out of here.

“Sorry but we’re in a time crunch, we need to go back to the venue. I’m sure you can cut this part out.” Brian took charge and thank God he did cause Paul’s legs was just about to give out right then and there. John caught him and sat him down on a nearby chair.

“I fucking knew you weren't okay!”

Paul’s head rolled back and slumped on the chair. “ _ I need air… _ ” he moaned.

“How? Photographers are outside!” Ringo said in a panic.

“The van is parked down the street!” George looked out the window.

John thought fast. “Shield him with your coats, he can hold on to me as we go. Ready Paul?” John pulled Paul to his feet and looked back at Brian. Brian signaled him to go. George and Ringo hasty unbuttoned their coats and shielded the sick boy. Then they were out the doors. Photo hungry paparazzi shouted questions and tried to take a peek inside the coats. They picked up the pace and made it to the van. The driver slid it opened confused. John went on first and dragged Paul in with him. George and Ringo followed with Brian trailing after them. John rested Paul’s head on his lap. Paul was out cold.

“Fuck! He needs to go to hospital!”

“W-we can’t risk it! Take us back to the hotel!” Brian ordered.

“What the fuck are you on about Brian?!” John shouted.

“We have to call a doctor in!” Brian shouted back.

The van began to move and John looked down at the disheveled, pale, sickly boy. “Please…” John pleaded. “Please be okay…”


	3. Breathe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got some down time between classes, thought I'd update a chapter. It's a short one I know but still good! Enjoy! :)

John lie cloths of cold water over Paul’s forehead and kneels on his knees. John haven't prayed since his mother was in the hospital fighting for her life and he blamed God for losing every person he loved. He rested his head on Paul's side and closed his eyes

“It not fair that they died and I live. How about a deal? Save Paul, let me keep him and I will come back to you. I will follow your path, I swear. I'm either me or him, but I'll protect him. Please. Hear me.”

There were two quick knocks and George’s head peeked in. “The doctor’s here.”

“Let him in then.” John said, standing up.

The doctor walked in, suit and tie with a briefcase. He opened the briefcase on the carpeted floor and proceed to take out the things he needed. He delicately opened Paul’s mouth to stick the thermometer in. He took out his stethoscope and listened to Paul’s heartbeat.

“How long has he been sick?” He asked.

Brian cleared his throat. “Um, for two days now. We thought it was a little cold but during soundcheck he said his stomach hurt. We let him rest but then he said he was better and we continued on with our day-”

“Wait he was better after the stomach pains? Like he miraculously felt better?”

Ringo chimed in. “Not for long. He ended up demanding for air and then he fainted in the van. Now we’re here.”

The doctor took off the thermometer “His fever is 106.” The doctor felt Paul’s neck. “His lymph nodes are swollen… He needs to go to the hospital.”

“Doctor, do you know what you’re dealing with?” Brian asked.

“Dealing with? I’m dealing with a patient that needs immediate care. If you’re asking if he’s going to be in a secluded room, yes he will.” The doctor retorted.

They all turned to the sound of a croaky whimper. Paul barely opened his eyes. He was as pale as a sheet. He had slick sweat running off him. The doctor knelt down and put on a reassuring smile.

“Hello sleepyhead.”

Paul squinted. “W-who are you?”

“I’m doctor Davies. You’re going to be coming with me to the hospital.”

“Hospital?”

“You’re very sick. We need to find out what’s wrong with you.”

“No… I’m fine, we have a show to do.”

“No show Paul. It’s cancelled.” George said.

“No, no, NO!” Paul kept repeating ‘no’ and his breaths came in gasps. He tried to sit up again and again. John held him down.

“Paul calm down!”

“No! No! NO!”

“What’s wrong with him?!” Brian shouted.

“He’s panicking.” The doctor Davies placed both of his hands on Paul’s face. “You’re okay. You’re okay. Breathe with me. In 1, 2, 3… Out 1, 2, 3…” He repeated counting until Paul’s shaking breath became more clear. He slowly layed down again. Doctor Davies turned to Brian. “He’s coming with me now.”

John sat on the empty bed where Paul once laid. George and Ringo walked in and joined him. “It’s not fair. He’s all alone.”

George sighed. “He has the best doctors John, I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

“How came Brian gets to go?”

“He’s going to handle all the press stuff.” Ringo shrugged.

“And that means we stay here? We should be at the hospital too.”

“You seem to care a lot.” George mumbled.

“He’s our mate. I’m supposed to care.”

“We care too, we just noticed you care a little more. There’s nothing wrong with that.” Ringo nudged. 

George put his arm around John. “Whatever you feel towards Paul is okay.”

John looked at the both of them. “What are you two getting at?”

“I think you know exactly what we’re getting at. Come on John we’re not stupid.” George winked.

“...How long have you known?”

“Oh since ‘61! You know… After  _ Paris _ ...” Ringo teased.

“Who told you about Paris?”

“No one did. No one had to. It was in the way you looked at each other. Paul batting his eyelashes…” George mocked by batting his eyelashes.

“You pinching his arse…” Ringo wiggled his eyebrows.

“Alright! Alright! You know!” John turned beet red while George and Ringo laughed. Once they gathered their breaths, they all laid back on the bed.

John yawned. “I hope he’s okay.”

“He will be.” George sighed.


	4. Lifted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally the ending! Thank you so much for reading this! I hope the ending was good! Enjoy! :)

In the private ward the air had a perfumed scent and the seats were plush. Every surface was dustless. The nurses were unhurried and they breezed from room to room on their rounds. There were vases of flowers and beautiful framed pieces of art on the walls. In most rooms in could be heard the noise of a television. 

They finally reach the door, brown like all the others, but through the windows John can already see people inside. 

“Well, here we are.” The nurse smiles kindly and opens the door wider. Doctors and nurses surrounded Paul’s hospital bed, attaching IV's, heart monitors and oxygen tanks to him. Sitting in a corner watching this all go down was Jim. John decided to explore the room while the other people are still crowded around him. A TV set at the end of the bed, a window with a view of the world below, and there were two chairs. It was a typical hospital room, sparse and functional. Doctor Davies moved his stethoscope over Paul’s back. He was awake but he swayed where he sat, he was still plae and his chest heaved more quickly than it should to bring in air. John sat myself next to Jim and stared dejectedly up at the ceiling. Most of the doctors left the room, Doctor Davies stayed. Ringo sat on the other chair and George sat on the arm of the chair. Doctor Davies looked at his chart.

“We did every test imaginable. From blood tests to x-rays, we just have to wait a couple of hours and we’ll find out what’s wrong with him.”

“Do you know if it’s serious? Is it deadly?”

“That I don’t know.” And with that he exited the room. The air felt heavy, it felt anxious. They all stared and the weezing man in the bed. Paul turned his head to the right.

“You didn’t have to drive all this way.”

“You’re my son, of course I’m going to drive hours to see you.” Jim held Paul’s hand. “We’ve been through this before, you’re going to be okay. Are you hungry?”

“I want some ice.”

“I’ll go get some then.” Jim stood up and left. John scooted his chair up to the bed.

“They know about us now.” John pointed to Ringo and George. Paul smiled weakly.

“They were bound to find out eventually. Hope it isn’t too weird.”

“Not at all.” George batted his eyelashes in the way Paul would.

“It’s very sweet actually, you and John.” Ringo winked.

“Alright, alright.” John waved the two giggling boys off. 

Paul looked at the wide window. “Did the fans find out where I am?”

“Yes and they’re clogging the streets.” George answered.

“They weren't mad about the cancellation?”

“No. They just want to know if your okay… Paul, why were you so adamant about performing yesterday? You faked being better and everything.” John asked.

Paul looked down at his sheets and silently wept. Tear droplets fell onto his blanket and the boys climbed onto the bed, not caring whether or not Paul was contagious. “I didn’t want to feel like a burden. I hate feeling like I’m holding anyone back.”

John rubbed Paul’s back. “You’re not doing anything wrong though. If you’re sick, you’re sick. Let us take care of you.”

“You took care of me after the  _ fiendish thingy _ incident in Hamburg.” George held Paul’s other hand.

Ringo rubbed Paul’s leg. “And you took care of me when I had that terrible stomach ache.”

John kissed Paul’s cheek. “You make the best hangover tea.” Everyone shared a laugh. “Paul, we will always be there for you.”

“I know.” He wiped away his tears. “Ew. I never cried in front of you lot before.”

“We’re in this for the long run, mate. It was gonna happen. And what’s this about  _ we’ve been through this before _ ?”

Paul adjusted his seating. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Paul this isn’t the time to push it off.” George said.

“Is there something you’re not telling us?” Ringo asked.

Paul sniffled. “Long ago, before I met any of you. I was just as sick as I am now. And the doctors of course didn’t know what I had. My Mum knew though. One day she returns from home with this thick brown stuff, some sort of home remedy. She put it on my face and chest, and a day later I was fine. She told my I had this genetic sickness that runs in my mums side. Even she had it when she was young. Whatever that oil was I need it. She never told me what it was.”

“So without it, you’re just gonna stay sick?” John asked.

“I don’t know. I hope not.”

The door creaked open. It was Jim again, with a cup of ice and a bag.

“I see we’re all reunited.” He pulled up a chair. “Before I left, Aunt Gin heard about what happened to you and stopped by. She gave me this.” Jim rummaged through his bag and pulled out a jar of brown oil. “I wanted to make sure the doctors weren't around, I didn’t know if they would take it away so I waited. Do you remember this?”

“Yes! I just told them about this.”

“Perfect timing then.” He popped the cap off and applied the oil on Paul. “I told you you were going to be okay.”

“He’s going to be good as new after this?”

“After a couple of hours.”

“Thank you Aunt Gin!” John squeezed Paul tight. The heavy air was lifted, it was more light, it was breathable, and with every inhale Paul got better and better.

**Author's Note:**

> Did you like it? :)


End file.
